In his two seasons at Manchester City, Mario Balotelli has almost been a modern variation on Walter Mitty – living a fantasy life made up by others. He is the only footballer who could generate headlines in an empty room. Tales of maverick behaviour have been so frequent as to create an image of a Balotelli we think we know. On Saturday,the rampant Balotelli mythology was challenged when he gave his first major interview to English television, on the BBC's Football Focus.

This being Balotelli, there was a twist. He agreed to the interview because it was with Noel Gallagher. Balotelli likes Oasis, even though he had just turned five when they last released a decent record. It had a certain logic: Dadrock ambassador meets the Premier League's only rock star. Balotelli joked that it would be the "first and last time" he would be interviewed on British TV. "This," said Gallagher, "is as big as Frost/Nixon."

They met in a room at City's Carrington training ground. With projectors on the wall, a brown leather sofa and black sheets draped everywhere, it had the look of a seedy private cinema. Balotelli was dressed in a beanie hat, gold-and-navy tracksuit top, black bottoms and white gym boots. You had to admire his assertion that "an English person cannot speak about style with an Italian person".

At times Gallagher was an excitable fanboy, twice ignoring the golden rule that a man in his 40s should never partake in a fist bump, never mind instigate one. The interview was largely amiable stuff, with Balotelli as inscrutable and laconic as you would expect. There were no philosophical proclamations; no seagulls and trawlers. His respect for and trust in Roberto Mancini was clear ("If Mancini says something, it's right") as was his disdain for the English press. "I'm really private," he said. "They're just lying, they don't even know." He joked that he should "kill" those who step out of line.

Balotelli also revealed which parts of his Mittyish life were true. He did return from John Lewis with a quad bike and a trampoline, having been sent by his mother to buy an iron; and the fire brigade did come to his house the night before the 6-1 win at Old Trafford after a firework set light to a curtain. The rest – paying for everyone's petrol, bringing a bullied truant to his headmaster, driving round Manchester dressed as Santa, putting £1,000 in the collection plate at midnight mass – was all fiction.

He seemed like someone who couldn't understand his own charisma. "Why do you like me?" he asked Gallagher. With most footballers you would sense somebody fishing for an ego massage. Balotelli just seemed curious. The enduring impression was of an essentially shy man who does come alive – but only behind closed doors, not in front of the camera.